


Letters

by AconitumNapellus



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Epistolary, Letters, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 15:55:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14288343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AconitumNapellus/pseuds/AconitumNapellus
Summary: If Napoleon and Illya were to write to one another. I may update from time to time.





	1. Europe (Unspecified)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Napoleon's in Europe for a few days after his affair with Satine, and misses Illya's birthday.

I.K.

I’m sorry I missed your birthday. Would you believe I was stuck on a train in deepest, darkest Europe running from the law, with Satine as my nemesis? Would you believe that Satine’s nemesis is not the force of law or any number of government agencies, but children? Amazing man, but a pack of adolescent students is enough to bring him out in a cold sweat. Anyway, of course the affair was brought to an end after a series of daring and unbelievable stunts through which I almost lost my life a number of times. You’ll be glad to know that I held on to both life and liberty, and I’ll be back in your arms ASAP, W.’s debriefing notwithstanding. I’d much rather be debriefing you, to be honest. And no, before you ask, I did not debrief Satine in any way. Not really. Honestly, dear. A quick fumble in a train bathroom doesn’t count, does it?

Your only,

N.S.

P.S. Please send any letters to the address on the hotel stationary, but send it soon, won’t you? because I’ll be moving on, of course, in the next week. Don’t send anything through comms. I’m sure we’re being eavesdropped upon.

\----  
N.S.

You, debriefing a dark and mysterious agent on the other side of the law? Really? You stun me, my dear. Just make sure you have a good wash before you come home to me. At least I know you’re coming home to me. You always do. Don’t worry about my birthday. You can take me to Veselka and buy me pierogi. Also Coney Island. I want candy floss. Don’t tell me it’s cotton candy. It’s candy floss. Anyway, the girls in Communications baked me a cake and seemed disappointed that I took the whole thing home with me. I will be at home when you come back, W.s whims not withstanding. Do you like my turn of phrase? I hope so. Just make sure you come home without dark enemy agents, air hostesses, or rural middle school teachers attached. I prefer you solo.

IK


	2. Monte Carlo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Illya is stuck in Monte Carlo. Napoleon is stuck at his desk.

N.S.

Do you have any idea how boring seminars are without you making faces at me from across the table? There are women here who insist on talking to me. One of them keeps telling me how cute I am. I’d like to tell her that I’m fully trained in ways to kill or incapacitate with my bare hands but I’m afraid she’d think it was a come on.

I wish I could write in Russian to you. It’s far more precise, and I need the practice. The man from Leningrad keeps correcting my grammar, and while it’s maddening, he’s quite right.

Dear N-, I am so bored, and the food is dreadful. It’s catered by Americans. I don’t need to say more. When I come home you’ll have to feed me up. The room’s all right and I have a view out over the harbour at night. It glitters amazingly. But I know more than the lecturer about his own subject. I tried to talk to him after the first seminar but he is a Soviet-hating first class snob. He seats me next to Comrade Leningrad, because he’s a sadist.

Send cookies, or at least love.

I.K.

\----

I.K.

I couldn’t send cookies so you’ll have to make do with my love. I’m still trapped under a Mount Rushmore of paperwork, or I’d be on the first plane, cookies in hand. You know if you were here, the paperwork would be finished by now, don’t you?

You’re in Monte Carlo. Can it really be so boring? I’d tell you to go out one evening and see what you can pick up in the casino, but I mean girls and I know you’ll interpret it as a challenge to beat the croupier at his own game. I know you’re not interested in all those delightful girls that must be flocking to you. Of course they’re flocking to you. Have you seen yourself? But while we’re on the subject, you don’t mind me going with a few girls while you’re away, do you? No men, I promise. You know I get an itch for pretty girls and I’m a much better lover to you when I scratch it.

When you come back, look for me first in the office. If you don’t see me, head for the first stack of files and look underneath. I’ll probably be down there, gasping for air.

You, of course, are my air.

N.S.

\----

N.S.

Oh, N-, don’t be so silly. You don’t stop yourself going with girls even when I _am_ there, so I don’t know why you’d stop while I am away. Yes, I know a lot of the time it’s part of the mission, but I think only a catastrophic accident or Madame N.’s formula would do anything to curb your libido. Give your body to whomever you like (girls, I mean) – just not your heart.

Comrade Leningrad persuaded me to go with him to a casino last night. He doesn’t speak English so well and was in need of a translator. I wish you’d been there. He lost ten thousand francs at the roulette wheel. Such a stupid place to bet money. Then he was so desolate that he tried to drink himself into oblivion. I’d only had a few brandies, so when he fell into the harbour I managed to pull him out and I felt quite warm for the exercise. I won a couple of hundred francs at blackjack. I’ve had to dry the notes out on the windowsill of my hotel room.

Yes, there were girls at the casino too. Shrewd old women dripping in diamonds and green silk, and silly young ones throwing their money about and then weeping when they lost it. One middle aged American school teacher on a European tour, of course. There’s always one, isn’t there? I think she was a middle school teacher from Kansas.

Anyway, I don’t need any of them. I’m not you, remember. I’m happy to wait until I’m home, and if you have been as trapped by the paperwork as you say, I suppose I’ll find rather a desperate lover waiting for me.

I.K.

\----

I.K.

Well, good morning, Soggy. Or have your clothes dried out after your midnight self sacrifice to preserve relations between East and West? I suppose Comrade Leningrad remembers toppling in, or was he too drunk?

I actually managed to finish the paperwork and the Old Man let me take a day off. Would you believe that? I was expecting to be sent out to Tokyo and not be here for your return, but he sent S. and D. instead. Said something about them needing experience. I don’t know. Maybe he’s got a heart after all, and knew I hadn’t seen you in far too long. Or maybe he just wanted to throw poor S. and D. in at the deep end. Maybe he just wants to save the typing pool from my predatory actions.

Will you be home soon? Let me know.

N.S.

\----

NS

SENDING TELEGRAM AS FASTER THAN LETTER = ALL WET THINGS NOW DRY INC COMRADE L = ARRIVE JFK 0836 TOMORROW = BE THERE = EAST WEST RELATIONS NEED HEATING UP = IK


	3. Turkey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Illya's in hospital in Turkey, and Napoleon has been out of touch.

N.S.

They’re letting me write a letter. Wish I could talk on phone but can’t get answer. Worried about you. Forgive my style and shortness but I still feel woozy and wrist is very sore. Yes it was a car but not at hands of enemies. Just ran out too fast after F and didn’t look. Stupid. She’s very sorry. The driver, not F. Have had fifteen tons Turkish gravel debrided from left thigh and calf. Hurts like hell.

Expect to be here for at least a week. Probably two because won’t release me without chaperone. Wish I could get out. Wish you weren’t trapped by work because I feel so far away and don’t speak enough Turkish to get by. Food is dreadful + good scents from street vendors outside window. Tried throwing out some lira but they kept lira and kept the food too. Beggars.

Keep dropping pen and nurse is giving me evil eye. Don’t they say sprains worse than breaks? Can’t you be here to stop me being bored? My reading glasses smashed by damn car. Can read but makes head ache more and head aches enough as is. Please come annoy me. I miss you more than stupid wrist will let me write.

All my love,

I.K.

 

\----

 

I.K.

You must be woozy, love, to write so tenderly to me. I wish I could come and lay a cool cloth on your aching brow. I’d even read your physics journals to you. A new one’s come, by the way. I’ve put it on the stack.

I’m sorry we were cut off when I called. I guess the US-Turkey phone connection isn’t so reliable. I’ll try to get an audience with Lyndon B. and ask him to get on it. I wanted to call back but I’ve been literally chained to the desk. I mean that. Not my desk but one in a certain office in a certain place I can’t mention here. It was a great oak thing and they trussed me up and drugged me so I couldn’t even lift it to get the cuffs out from around the leg. I looked like a fly after a spider had done with it. I was almost ready to gnaw through the wood like a beaver, when the door crashed open and S---t and G-------n were there, guns out, ready for anything. They had a good laugh at me before they got me free. I’m thinking of bribing F to put scotch bonnet peppers in their sandwiches next time they’re in the commissary.

That was an explanation of why it took me so long to answer your letter, and why I didn’t get any of your calls after the first. I’m sorry, dear. You should have called the office and they would have told you I was on a mission. You know there’s nothing odd in a partner checking in on his other half. Suspicion comes naturally to you, I know – but next time, just call the office, won’t you? Hell, I suppose you would have been more worried then, because they didn’t know where I was either. I was stuck in that room for three days, you know, but most of that I was out of it with sedative. Guess they figured if they drugged me I’d be less trouble – and I was. I lost three pounds. There’s the bonus. But I’m all right and most of my worry while I was there was that you were in hospital with a head injury and I was out of touch. I was so glad to find your letter waiting for me. Your handwriting was terrible by the way, but I managed. I’m writing this as clearly as possible so you can read it without your glasses.

I’ll bring you your spare pair, anyway. I have a ticket for Friday. Expect me Saturday morning, before visiting hours, banging on the door and demanding to be let in to see my love. I promise. I’ll get you some of that street food on the way in. If I can I will kidnap you and take you home.

All my love,

N.S.

P.S. W just stopped in to tell me I have to bring you home because otherwise the hospital bills will be astronomical. What it is to have a caring boss.


End file.
